


Genesis

by GlassGazer



Category: Super Smash Brothers, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Action & Romance, BAMF Zelda, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fox is a Good Bro, Gen, Legend of Zelda References, Mystery, Post-Twilight Princess, Sheik is Zelda, Sheikah Culture, This is not the Smash Bros. you know, so much mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassGazer/pseuds/GlassGazer
Summary: Shrieking crowds over silver platters. A puppet master whose stage is a silver dome. Where sacrifice and war are one in the same, and Zelda must choose one of the two or pay the price in full. T for action.





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I can't believe I'm back.
> 
> For those of you that are new here, I began this story back in 2014. Life got in the way, as well as writer's block and just about every other obstacle possible. Genesis went on hiatus mid-2015 as I tackled several life-changing events and the monster of text I had written that just wasn't that good. But I'm back like I said I'd be, and hopefully you guys enjoy what I've been cooking up.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Nintendo, but I own a Gameboy. Same thing? Probably not.

_In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth._ _And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep..._

_-Genesis 1:1_

* * *

 

Like any legend, it begins with an omen.

_Or perhaps it's the other way around,_ Zelda muses, lightly tracing the back of her left hand. She sits curled on her windowsill, feet bare. It's morning, the only time she forgoes her gloves long enough to appreciate the feel of air between her fingers. Only this morning, the air lies stagnant across her skin.

The first time the wind died, it was with her father. The atmosphere itself seemed to hold its breath the morning his body was discovered in bed. _Passed in his sleep,_ the crown doctors said. _Natural causes._

But the wind only returned once the day of his funeral arrived. With no mother or father to guide her twelve-year-old self into the role of sole monarch, her private guard, Impa, took on the task. Training, tutoring; she was brought up in the way of the Sheikah.

The sun watches from the horizon. There's a phrase tossed around in the south providence of Hyrule, one traders passing through her court like to repeat in poor seasons.

_An eastern breeze brings nothing good to the west._

Zelda knows this is false in the same way she knows her own skin. It's better to have a poor breeze than none at all. After all, the last time there was no breeze, her kingdom was invaded. Put under lock and key, she only felt the wind again with mud lining the hem of her dress, golden arrows pinched between her fingers. A lifetime of preparation, and she was still caught off guard.

But this brings her back from her ponderings, and into the present.

She sits curled on her windowsill, feet bare and resting against the cool stones chilled by morning. Knees tucked in, arms crossed, and there isn't a breeze.

And as her father always said, ' _Never ignore the omen that strikes twice, for the third may be your last.'_

* * *

The door to her room opens slowly, silently, quite a feat for its unoiled hinges. There's only one who can manage it.

"Your Highness?" Impa says, the phrase half question and half demand. It's admirable how she can pull that sort of tone off.

"Yes, come in," Zelda replies with a wave of her hand. Impa's already through the frame before she finishes speaking.

Her personal guard is not a slight woman, but she certainly isn't overweight. Her height easily tops most of the men of the guard, and her width is a good bit thicker than Zelda's. All muscle, all grit.

Metal plating and thick leather complete her bulk, sharpening the angles of her face and short, harsh pony tail. A few daring wisps escape the bind and create the fringe framing her face. If there were ever an audacity to find in non-living things, Zelda would find it there.

The Sheikah woman isn't one to give in to imperfection, but it makes sense. Her people are warriors that thrive on code: honor, discipline and loyalty. After the Great War three generations back, the tribe upped their training by the tenfold. It's surprising and slightly terrifying that any survive past adolescence.

Nevertheless, Zelda is pleased to see her.

Her body guard nudges the door close behind her. Balanced on her palm is a silver platter and tea pot, shined spotless and doubtlessly worth a small fortune. Completing the sight is a scratched porcelain teacup, the paintings on the side long faded off.

The beginnings of a smile tug at Zelda's lips. "You brought Father's."

Impa hums lightly. "Today is a special occasion." She sets the platter down on the vanity besides the bed, pouring a spot of tea into the cup before passing it along.

It warmth grounds her, and she takes a moment to feel for the familiar chip on the rim before speaking. "You know, for as long as I can remember, it has only been myself, you and father."

Impa raises a brow. "It's unlike you to be sentimental."

"And it's unlike you to bring me tea," she counters half-heartedly. "I feel as if something terrible is on the horizon."

"That's not the sort of attitude a princess usually takes on the day of her crowning," Impa says casually.

"You are determined to be contrary this morning, aren't you?" The tea is Gerudo Flower, sweet with a burn that scorches her throat. She lets the feeling subside before responding, "No, but times are unusual these days. Aren't they?"

Her guard nods once, a motion so short it borders on a twitch. Zelda's bare feet rub against the worn stone of her window, smooth grain rolling beneath skin as she drags her toes toward the outer wall. _Add mixture to wall. Breaking down,_ she makes note. So much to do, so little hands to help.

"I had another dream," she mutters. "It was of a man this time, glowing brighter than the sun. He was above the land, the ocean. The people. Everything below him folded upon itself."

Impa stays silent.

Zelda rallies on. "But he didn't stop there. There was a course he followed, something he was after that could only be attained by following a certain path. And everything left in his wake was destruction."

"What do you think it all means?" Impa asks carefully.

"I haven't the faintest idea. The dreams arrive, the interpretation arrives later. I'm still waiting for interpretations that have been years to come."

"Then let us not worry over them," Impa says. At Zelda's look, she smiles. "I thought you were the wise one?"

She starts, then closes her mouth. She accepts the offered hand and pulls herself into the room where the plush carpet warms her feet. "You're right."

Impa hums lightly and retrieves Zelda's slippers. "There are few instances where I'm not. Now bundle up, or you'll catch a cold."

Zelda does so, taking a second look at her guard's appearance. "What is that?" she asks.

"Hmm?" Impa quirks a brow, following her eyes. "Ah, this is the ceremonial garb. You aren't the only one who has one."

Impa's ceremonial garb is hardly anything compared to the ill-fitting robe she has to wear. Rather, it is a thin leather band fitted at the waist with three burning orange feathers dangling at her side.

Zelda frowns. "That's hardly fair."

"I disagree." Her smile grows even wider. "Now, follow me. I have something to show you."

The hallway is like the honeycomb of a beehive. Castle servants buzz through with caskets of wine and roasted cuckoo, wheels of goat cheese and barrels of fresh fish from the Zora's domain.

The smells mix together to create not a wholly unpleasant experience, but it's a blessing in disguise when Impa leads her away to where no servants would be heading.

The East Corridor.

This portion of the castle was hit the most during the Twilight Occupation, only half of it deemed safe by the inspectors brought from outside of the province. Though it's been nearly a year since any fight had taken place in its halls, Zelda swears the dust is still settling.

Three of the walls are puckered with nicks and gouges almost hidden in the black soot coating an entire section. Scorch marks. The other wall is missing, and a protective shield of her own making stands as temporary cover.

Zelda shuffles through the wreckage, clenching the sides of her sleeping gown for warmth. A stray piece of rubble sits in her path and she nudges it aside with her toe.

"We're making progress," Impa says. Zelda absently wonders if the double meaning is intentional.

"Yes," she agrees. "Though I assume you didn't bring me here for an update?"

The hole in the side of her home is unfortunate, but in the grand scheme of problems it isn't all that big. Still, the architects have made it their personal mission to bother her over the matter every meeting.

Impa hums in response. Her red eyes glint where the sun filters through the shield. Hylians slowly occupy the streets below, awake with purpose.

To them, the hole is hidden with her power. For one, it's a horrible idea for anyone to see inside the halls lest there be someone daring enough to attempt an attack. But it's also for morale. If one of Hyrule's main fixtures were to be damaged, it would reflect poorly on the throne.

Just beyond the street corner is the tail end of a banner. A carpet rolls out from under it, down past where Zelda cannot see.

She knows what lies on the other side. The Castle Town Square is already decorated for the crowning scheduled late afternoon. Colorful streamers, purple and gold for the Royal Family, are strung between buildings. Lanterns and fairy bottles that had been hung last night now wink in the early morning.

At the center of the decorations is the stage. Garnished with silks and flowing tapestries, this is where she will be crowned Queen.

"You're awfully silent this morning. Did the Hero return your message?" Impa asks abruptly.

Her advisors suggested the Hero should take a place somewhere on the stage out of respect. Of course, she hasn't met with the Hero since he left Arbiter's Grounds. There simply hasn't been time to make travel to Ordon, and even if she did something tells her he won't be home. There was an unsettled spirit in his eyes, that last day.

_Restless bones make a skeleton show._

That being said, she's rather bothered by his lack of response. Communication is something she values, and dealing with someone who keeps a sealed mouth is like painting plaster across her own.

"He neglected to do so," she finally says. "But the ceremony will go on as planned. The people will find another way to pay his dues."

"If they haven't already," Impa says.

"True."

Speak of the devil- a little boy frolics past, a floppy green hat waving ridiculously atop his head. They can be found everywhere now of days, with Malo Mart selling them on discount for special occasions. A stray mutt trots down the street after him, a roasted cuckoo leg in its maw, the owner none the wiser.

Zelda smiles in amusement before sobering. "Have your guards found nothing?"

A shake of the head. "Nothing you haven't already guessed, Your Highness."

But Impa knows her well enough that she doesn't wait for the command, instead barks an order. A guard steps forth from the shadows not a second later, bowing low. He wears the Sheikah Eye on his chest like the others, though this one holds a special black outlining.

_Personal assistant to the Chief._

"Melo," Impa says. "Report."

Still bowed, Melo recites, "The stray Chu's in Death Mountain have been contained. The jelly is already being processed for mass distribution in Kakariko village. The last Bulbin sighting was in the Gerudo Desert, and they show no signs of moving west. The neighboring kingdoms haven't tried to take advantage of our situation yet, but Ninĕn has been steadily expanding their borders the past few months, as has been predicted by Your Highness."

Zelda nods thoughtfully, though she's already read the reports. It comes as no surprise that the kingdom of Ninĕn is making a move. If it were her, she would. Hyrule is a land ripe with fruit despite the Twilight Occupation that roughed it up a year ago. If she were one of the neighboring countries that didn't place belief in gods or chosen lands, she wouldn't hesitate to send out her forces towards this literal goldmine.

Still, the timing is disappointing. There aren't many jumping at the chance to join the guard, nor are there many _capable_ of jumping. The flood of monsters that arrived with Ganondorf took more out of the people than some care to admit.

"I see," Zelda says slowly. "Thank you."

Impa nods towards the guard and he steps into the shadows, gone.

"You protected our tribe the last war. Let us protect you," Impa says in his absence, "though sending you to an allied kingdom is out of the question. If I had my way last time, I still would have stayed."

"And fall with the rest of my guards?" Zelda reminds her quietly. "The Sheikah are a fraction of what they used to be, and I can't afford to lose you. It's enough that a handful of you have already returned here, the _capitol,_ where any number of spies may be hidden."

Impa scoffs. "Take today as a celebration and let me carry your burdens, at least for the while. Alright?"

The question is punctuated by a light smile, and Zelda wonders not for the first time how this woman was the same warrior who single-handedly destroyed legions of Hyrule's enemies in her youth. She returns a smile of her own, accompanied by a slight nod that weighs more than she cares to admit.

The people below move with a confident gait. It is hard to tell if they notice the change themselves, that it is not just one man walking with his head held high but the whole crowd, children laughing freer and women giving them lighter reign. The mood has brightened considerably in the past few months as it tends to, when people leave the darker things behind for what light is ahead.

_We're making progress._

* * *

"...and by the Goddesses' blessing, may Her Majesty prosper this nation and its people. All hail the Queen!"

With the priest's final blessing finished, the people repeat after him. "All hail the Queen!" The crowd erupts in applause as the musicians begin to play the Royal Family ode.

The hot summer air does nothing to dissuade the people. All across the Square are Hylians, Zoras and Gorons; anyone and everyone allowed to participate in the festivities. At the priest's cue Zelda is permitted to stand from her place, and the dances begin.

Not a second passes when a man approaches her. He is garbed in a blue robe so dark it borders on black, his pristine white gloves poking out like teeth from a sneering mouth. His curly hair slithers out of his cowl like serpents, and Zelda fancies the image of them eating out his sly green eyes. She knows this man.

"Queen Zelda," he purrs, claiming her hand as he bows forward. "May your reign be long and fruitful." He kisses her knuckles and she has the sudden impulse to pinch his nose.

But the desire passes and she replies, "Earl Hanta. I would say you've been working against that."

Despite the heat, his face remains pale as ever. He raises an eyebrow. "Oh, Your Majesty?"

She smiles. "I would, if I didn't know better."

He returns her smile with one of his own. "You're as charming as your words, Your Majesty."

_Daring._ She puts it aside. "Tell me, how does Ninĕn fair?"

Hanta, Earl of Ninĕn and man after her own country. He is a godless man, driven by greed and, from what the stories of his family say, madness. He has a certain amount of gall to attend her own crowning while he steadily widens his territory towards her own. There has to be a greater reason for coming, one she already has an idea of and hates.

The Earl directs his attention to his hand, inspecting it for a speck of dirt. "My kingdom is well and fruitful, as you have undoubtedly heard." He raises his eyes to hers. "The subject of which I was hoping to speak with you elsewhere. Preferably over, say, tea?"

There it is.

She hides her discomfort easily. "Earl, it would-"

The back of her hand tightens like the skin is trying to rip itself apart.

_Hurts,_ she absently thinks.

"-be in your best interests and my own if you would be plain in your speech," she continues without a hitch. "But as you said, this conversation is best saved for later. I will have the details sent to wherever you are lodging." Her tone is clipped but acceptable.

"You must excuse me," she adds as a second thought, both for her manner and her leave. She stands from her throne and he bows, and she avoids his eyes while achingly making her way down the stairs and into the cover of her guard. Impa flanks her not a moment later.

"Your Majesty?"

Afraid to speak for whatever it may cost her, Zelda waits till they are inside one of the many hidden passageways of the city before collapsing, startling her company. The back of her hand lights up like a golden beacon and she grits out between labored gasps, "The Goddesses are calling."

The guards lower her to the floor at Impa's instruction. It is too late to reach the inside of the castle, and transporting someone in the throes of a vision was known to have consequences.

A cold hand smooths away the hair that has plastered itself to her forehead. "Clear mind, clear vision." Low and smooth. Impa's voice.

_Her last thought, embarrassingly, is the faint regret of missing the pastry table._ Then her eyes close and she slips away, into the folds of the spirits. It's like jumping into a pool of water without the resistance. There's the fall, then the inevitable rise.

She is floating.

There is no other way to describe it; all around her is fog, cool like morning mist. Condensation begins to settle on her face and she closes her eyes to its touch.

_Clear mind, clear vision_. Impa's words from before flutter across her mind, and she startles to awareness. There's no time for distractions.

She takes a tentative step forward, hesitant of the lack of ground. Whatever is keeping her up doesn't falter, though, so she takes another step and begins to walk.

But after a good minute, the fog hasn't left. Smoky tendrils curl around her eyes no matter how much she casts her hands around, golden Triforce light bouncing off the thick cloud and blinding her back.

Panic tightens up her neck. She _needs_ to be quick, as the bearer of Wisdom she's expected to be. Visions don't last forever, and unless she hurries up, whatever the gods are trying to tell her will be lost. She hikes up her skirt and breaks into a sprint, barreling forward until she crashes into a wall that leaves her tumbling to the floor.

A splash of water rises from where she hits the ground, drenching her. She spouts a small stream of water that managed to land in her mouth and brushes away a few strands of hair. Visions have a way of making the strange normal, and after a few episodes she is well used to their oddities. But nothing could have prepared her for this.

It's _him._

She can't fathom why his presence holds such weight. He may have been the Hero, but for a reason she can't shake, this seems personal.

_His name is Link_. The thought is less vocal and more internal, and her mind greedily drinks it up.

_Link my friend is Link is called LinkLinkLink-_ She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Link?" she says hesitantly, half expecting the words to tumble from her mouth in blocks.

He stares forwards, looking as if he sees something in the distance. She waves her hand in front of his face but receives no response. Just as she is about to knock him over for the sake of it, another figure appears.

He is a few yards away, clad in red and boasts a thick mustache. He gives no inclination towards her presence but rather stares past her. The fog slowly thins and reveals more people, each one stranger than the last.

A tall, muscular man with an analytical gaze. A fox standing by a small yellow rat, both with an intelligence behind their eyes that the average animal didn't possess. One particular being has her taking a step back. They seem like a monster out of legend, coated in metal with a solid green eye.

All around her stand a variety of creatures linked shoulder to shoulder. Shoulder to knee in some cases; there's no pattern to their genetic makeup. Only one thing do they have in common- their positions.

_Like an army,_ she belatedly realizes.

He boasts hair the color of the molten depths of Death Mountain, a mockingly thin, gold crown twisting through its rows. His armor is missing, worn desert rags in its place. It does nothing to soften his frame.

Instead, the raw, sun-dark skin exposes the barely compressed muscle coiling underneath. She counts the veins worming from his heart down bare arms, threading over knuckles that adorn calloused fingertips.

Lamplight eyes burn past her own.

Some men are more than human. This one is a monster born of legend, a beast with a gaping, holy wound.

She takes a step back, hand trembling over her mouth. They were _grossly_ unprepared, barely capable of handling one impending invasion much less _two_.

_Goddesses-_

Before she can finish the thought, a figure appears on the other side of Link. She steps closer to confirm what her eyes already drink in.

_Sheik_ stands before her, the name created out of petty revenge after her one-year naming ceremony for Sheikah training. She was seven-years-old and hardly cared about tradition, much less tact.

(Of course, she regretted it the minute she told Impa of her choice, as the woman only replied, unbothered, " _You're the one who will have to live with it.")_

Instead of a character with a silly name, a being born of shadow and flaming eyes acknowledges her in cool expectation.

Sheik tilts her head to the other figures, and she follows the movement. The figures disappear one by one, back into the fog. Sheik points towards Ganondorf, then towards the floor of water.

"I don't understand," she tells her.

Sheik repeats the gesture while Ganondorf's body gradually drifts away.

After the last bits of his body are devoured, the fog wraps around the Sheikah's body. Sheik touches her own forehead, the sign for Wisdom. With that confounding gesture, the fog eats her up and only Link is left.

She turns. Startlingly blue eyes meet her own. There is a wilderness in them, an energy so feral she half expects him to transform into the blue-eyed beast he was when they first met.

The water level is increasing rapidly, and to make matters worse, she's powerless here. Though she knows he isn't real- somewhere in the living realm he may very well be sipping goat's milk on horseback- she can't help but extend a hand towards Link.

He takes it without question, but just as his fingers should curl around her own, they faze through and she feels as though her innards have been pitted.

By now the water is up to her waist. She shuffles forward, frantically trying to reach Link. He opens his mouth, and the terrible noise from before mutes his voice.

As the water begins to pour over her shoulders, she tries one final lunge towards him, all of her strength put into this last desperate move. The water is well above her head and murky with fog, but she reaches his body and holds onto him.

His heartbeat is so slow.

She kicks with all her strength, must get to the surface _do not die, do not_. But it's no use; she is held down by his weight and tendrils of fog latch onto her ankles that pull and bruise skin.

She holds on as long as she can, gives her last breath to him, but the pulse stops and her tears join with the water.

He is dead, and she will die with him.

* * *

Zelda awakens with the taste of chalk in her mouth.

Everything hurts. The cold, jagged stone of the sewer floor beneath her, the air sucked in by her paper lungs, the dull throb of blood that sloughs through her veins. Every bump of movement places another pin through her skin that should keep her grounded, yet she can't stop herself from jolting up with a shriek.

Half the guard bounce back in surprise while the other half steps forward to help. Only Impa stays in her place, appraising her with needle-point eyes.

Zelda doubles over onto her hands and knees, taking well over a minute to catch her breath. A spot of crimson catches the light of the stones lining the walls, and Zelda belatedly tastes iron. She'd bit the inside of her mouth.

"Your Majesty?" one of the guards asked. She holds up a hand for silence before hoisting herself to her feet through sheer willpower. Impa doesn't have to ask, instead offers an arm that Zelda gladly accepts.

"I will speak further in my chambers," Zelda says. The formality of the words is dampened by her slur. The group moves onwards.

Though she must look a wreck, the castle servants pay no mind as they pass. Once they reach her chambers, she folds herself into her chair for the appearance of power, though all she wants is to curl into her bed and sleep the next week. After clearing out the lesser guards till only a select few Sheikah remain with Impa, Zelda takes a breath and relays her vision.

By the time Zelda finishes, a steaming mug of tea is in her hands and Impa paces the room.

"Hyrule is in no way prepared for another war," Impa says. "Much less the _Dark King_."

"Something tells me it isn't Ganondorf," Zelda replies. "I feel there is someone, perhaps some _thing_ at work in the shadows." Her dreams lay unmentioned in the room, their presence heavy.

Impa considers her words, fingers stroking her chin. "It is true no neighboring kingdoms are inhabited by those you described… Perhaps there is a separate realm involved, similar to the Twilight?"

One of her guards twitch.

Zelda sees this and sips her tea slowly, the spice of Gerudo Flower blanketing her tongue. It's hardly believable that she drank the same cup this morning. Truly ironic, it was.

Regarded as a High Society commodity, Hylians paid quite the penny for just a dab of Gerudo Flower. And yet it was but a century ago that her people wiped out the desert tribe, looting and pillaging their treasures until only their stories and king were left.

"Your Majesty," Melo begins from the guard, uncertainty plain in his voice. He bows his head.

"Speak plainly, Melo," she says.

He straightens. "I- I may have something worth mentioning." He hands her a flier worn neatly down the middle. It is intricately painted with swirling colors of blues and greens, outlined in a solid red that bleeds through the page. Despite its wear, the ink looks new enough to have been drawn hours before.

"'Super Smash _Bros._ ,'" she reads, fumbling on the last word. "'Join the brawl. Sign-ups closing soon.'" The text is hardly as interesting as the pictures.

Depicted underneath the lettering is the red man posed to fight. His opponent is the small, yellow rat along with a muscular, tightly-clad man.

"Do they... look familiar, Your Majesty?"

Her eyes shoot to his, reading carefully for any malintent, and he withers under her gaze. Upon finding none, she relaxes her attention. "Yes, they do."

In the bottom right corner sits Link with the Master Sword, his blue eyes as sharp as she'd last seen them. _Which wasn't so long ago,_ she thinks. The picture is detailed enough that she can imagine him jumping off the parchment.

"So, that's where he ran off to," Impa mutters.

"I thought they matched Her Majesty's description." Melo swallows. "And the Hero is there as well…"

Zelda squeezes the flier in her hands. "Where did you find this?"

He flushes. "A week ago this day, not far from Kakariko village. That tournament is one my father took me to many times before he passed, and I have such fond memories of the place. You must understand, Your Majesty-"

Impa bristles at his words, and Zelda raises a hand to stop her.

"-I would have said something sooner if I'd known the importance, I really hadn't-"

"Calm yourself," Zelda smiles gently to ease the poor boy. "You're telling me now. This must be fate, really." She rubs the back of her hand absently, pausing. "I think I'm supposed to go to this tournament."

He remains silent, looking as if he swallowed his tongue.

"It's a fighting competition?" she eases. The word 'brawl' can't mean much else.

Despite her intentions, Melo pales further. "About the location, Your Majesty…"

And as he speaks, a wind picks up in the east.


	2. Into the Abyss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is ahead of my usual schedule, but I really wanted to get this show on the road. Hopefully you guys will get an idea of where I'm going with this.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Super Smash Bros. Brawl or any Nintendo, Sega or Konami characters.

The last time Zelda has been to the canyons, it was with her father. He used to bring her to the Lights every birthday, the anniversary of her mother's death. He'd attempt to reach her mother from the other side, humming hymnals as old as Hyrule while she stood by, forgotten in the memory of the former Queen.

The scene would have been disheartening if she hadn't been trying to speak to her mother, too.

In wake of the memory, Zelda walks down the slope to where Melo waits. It's easy to forget how deep the canyons are, why Hylians are advised to stay a certain distance from them. Standing on the edge, she makes note to build a very  _tall_ fence on her return.

The bottom is cloaked by shadow.

Honestly, canyons are reputable to have sharp drops at impressive heights. But now that she's going to jump off the side of one, the landmark has been thrown into a whole new light. A terrifying, blood-splattered type of light.

The part of her not preoccupied with the fact that she'll be cliff diving soon wonders how Link reached the tournament. Did he jump off as well?

For apparently that's something people do. The  _Aurora Dinaeus_ is a portal to an alternate dimension. How that particular tidbit escaped her knowledge and thousands of others, Zelda will never know.

Melo's eyes light up as she draws up next to him, wary of the dark deep below. His mood is considerably lighter compared to before.

* * *

_ Earlier _

"What," Impa  _growled_ , "possessed you to keep this a secret?"

Melo cowered before her. Her eyes ablaze, thick lips set in a strict line, every inch of her screamed danger. The dagger at his neck was a trinket compared to the woman's legendary fury.

Though she'd go to the grave before admitting it, Zelda was amused. But the situation merited seriousness, so she dampened the feeling and turned her attention to the boy, taking in his appearance with more care than before. His hair was straight as straw and reached just above his cheekbones, framing the sides of his face like an ill-fitting picture frame. Strangely, he was the only Sheikah she knew of that went without a cowl or mask, and the scar streaking over his nose stood on full display.

To her slight pity, Melo shrank more so under her attention.

"Melo," she began. "What is this 'dimension'?"

"I-It's called Smash Central, named for its existence resulting from an implosion of dimensions," he replied, slowly relaxing as he recounted what sounded like an explanation from a history log. "The realm attracts all others for its fighting tournament- Super Smash Bros."

A vein poked out from Impa's forehead. Melo didn't seem to notice.

"And how did it come to your attention?" Zelda coaxed.

"My father showed it to me, as did his and his before. It became something of a family tradition during the summer when the tournament is in full swing." Hs tone turns more desperate. "I wasn't sure if you knew. No one had mentioned a  _thing_  after the tribe was reinstated."

Zelda longed to rub her temples, but that would portray weakness and Impa would scold her for it.

Expulsion or execution were the usual punishments for illegally acquiring Royal Family documentation. The Royal Scribes had introduced the law after word of the Triforce spread and introduced darkness to the land.

She could see why his mind would immediately go to the darker end of the spectrum. After all, if anyone would know about a portal to another dimension, it would ought to be only the rulers of said kingdom. She, herself, was ingrained with the knowledge of their sister-land Termina, and the Twilight and Spirit Realms, information only her forefathers and Impa shared. The idea of someone else knowing honestly terrified her.

Nonetheless, Zelda suddenly wished she had done something about that particular law once she came into power.

_Cuckoo-queen,_  she thought.  _Bulbin-headed._

"I understand," she said aloud. "Are there any other portals you know of?"

"N-no, Your Majesty!" he shouted in haste, and another vein emerged from Impa's forehead.

Vaguely curious as to how many could pop out and in no way interested in finding out, Zelda pressed on. "And you will no longer withhold such information as you may find it?"

"No, Your Majesty," was his reply directed to the cobblestone floor beneath him. Drops of sweat littered the floor in little pools, and all of them lit up in gold as she activated Wisdom.

Placing both hands on either side of his head, she let her power flow forth.

Power granted its bearer unfathomable strength and a proficiency in magic. Courage was an oddball, but she gathered it delivered the bearer an insane amount of luck and the ability to adapt to strange and new situations.

As the bearer of Wisdom, Zelda was given a peculiar set of strengths. While she was respectfully skilled in magic, she was hardly of the same caliber as Ganondorf, and she wasn't imbued with grandeur or valiance like the Hero. Her power stretched only several yards further than her body, passable for an ordinary mage but rather lackluster for someone carrying an artifact of the gods.

It was the magic that lurked underneath her fingertips, curling through her bone marrow down to the very essence of her being that was what many sought after, and none attained.

She could transfer her life power to another as she did for the Twilight Princess, and she could harness a bow of pure light with the help of the Guardian Deities. She walked among the spirits in visions and dreams, and could glimpse the future as one would witness a shooting star.

But her own favorite trick was admittedly less glitzy than those. She loved it.

The mark on her left hand glowed with the same light that seeped into Melo's forehead, and she witnessed his own life threads weaving through the air amongst her own. Like this, she could see every harp string of his mind, his heart; pathways of his life lined with memories and the honey-coated dreams of a child.

At the core of his chest was the thickest string. A pulsing Zora blue, it signified his very essence. His life string.

If she were of the character, Zelda could break it.

But she was not, and instead she cradled it between her hands, resting the back of her knuckles against his feverish brow. In a matter of moments, she read his heart like a book.

"Melo of the Sheikah," she announced, banishing the holy light from the room. "You are a fool. An honest, sweet fool."

The boy wept in relief.

* * *

Those tears may as well never have existed, now. The wild scar across Melo's nose is like a second grin underneath the dipping moon.

Zelda breathes deep, and the cool air rests nicely at the bottom of her lungs. The faint twinkle of a golden cricket rings from the grass below foot, brushing against her legs. Her toes twitch in response. Instead of encountering the thick, unforgiving leather of her riding boots, skin meets flexible hide and cloth.

Surprisingly, her Sheikah garb still fits. The suit is nothing like Impa's, not an ounce of silver plating or exposed skin, but rather boasts the traditional design of generations past. All the blessed daughters of the Royal Family wear one like it for their Sheikah training, the same kind her own grandmother wore.

The mask is an added touch. Upon remembering it she fiddles with the tattered ends of the scarf that rests at her collarbone, feeling a little foolish. It doesn't help that she's been clutching her mother's comb for the past hour like a girl and her doll.

Made from desert boar husks and inlaid with golden and silver rupees, the comb is undoubtedly worth a fortune. Impa practically threw it in her bag while they ran amuck like headless cuckoos scrounging for supplies. After all, there hadn't been much time to waste on packing. The portal to Smash Central opens as the moon sets and sun rises, according to Melo.

Which…  _Dear Goddesses,_ she thinks. Courage does not come easily for her.

Even as she stands tall against the rising light, shoulders back and chin held high, the urge to shove Melo off and jump after him is overwhelming. _Just to get it over with_ _._

Impulsiveness is a poor trait to have,  _especially_ for the bearer of Wisdom, but irony is something to appreciate. Or strangle, but she can't quite do that, either.

"Zelda?" Impa asks from behind her.

Her guard is garbed in the same cloak she wore while Twilight occupied their realm, and seeing it brings a bitter sense of nostalgia. But Impa's brow- her own, how odd is that?- begins to wrinkle, and such a familiar expression on an even more familiar face is too disconcerting to ignore.

_It's a bad day when the best solution is to create a doppelganger,_ Zelda muses.

Something needs to be said,  _any_ thing.

"Everything feels alright? No phantom pain or tingling?" Zelda asks. It's been a while since she's last charmed someone so completely, and the gradual tug on her power is unfamiliar.

"It feels like my own, though I'll have to accustom myself to mirrors." Impa's mouth quirks at the edge. The lips are smaller than her usual mouth, and what would normally be a slight twitch develops into more of a toothy grin. It looks rather silly on her usually upkept, stoic expression.

Zelda grimaces. To lose the same Queen that had just been crowned a day before is  _out_ of the question. Compiled with the obstacle Earl Hanta presents with his army and the fragile state of her country's economy, Zelda's absence can't be known. But still.  _Nayru, be with us._

"Ah, but you've forgotten something," Impa continues to say.

Zelda hesitates before sweeping a hand down herself. Light engulfs her briefly. A glance at the tanned skin on her bare fingers confirms at least some of the charm worked. The bangs pooling out from under her bandage-cap is more of a blond than the silver she was aiming for, but it will do. Without having to look, she knows her eyes are red from the lingering whisper of magic that nestles between her lashes.

"Yes?" she inquires.

"Yes, about," Impa says, and without further word gathers her into her arms.

A _hug?_ It's like she's a marionette from those shows in the Town Square, except someone's cut her strings. This is the cold dawn of something beyond them all, and Impa is sending her off.

"I am honored to serve you, Your Majesty," Impa is saying over the rush in her ears. "And I know if your parents were here to see you, proud would be an understatement."

If it takes a little long to find her voice, none mention it. "I couldn't ask for a better friend at my side," she says. "I thank you."

Blinking hard and taking care not to slip and fall to her death, Zelda moves against her guard's embrace. But Impa's arms tighten briefly, and her pack, a simple gray and blue patched skin faded from years of Impa's own travels, grows heavier. With it already fit to burst with extra bandaging, throwing needles, smoke bombs and whipping chains, she can only guess what the addition is.

Impa claps her on the back, releasing her. "We've taken enough time as it is," the woman announces, stern as ever. "Melo!"

"Yes, Chief!" By the way he stiffens straight as a board, he's more than eager to get back in her good graces. By the look on Impa's face, it doesn't work.

"Are we all set?" Impa asks, regarding him. The Sheikah guard they had taken with remain a respectable distance from the group, expressions unreadable. Zelda allows the two of them to speak business while the sky lightens.

Mornings.

They're a nice contrast to twilight, and the murky blue over the rocky horizon is a welcome sight. In the dim light her home perches tall like a mountain. Facing it across the countryside is the true mountain, Death.

She pockets her mother's comb and licks her chapped lips. Her tongue brushes against the light fabric of her mask, tasting salt.

"I will return to you," she whispers. "By Din, Farore and Nayru, I shall breathe this air once more in this life."

There's no telling what will happen to the land should she leave. As far as she's read, Wisdom has never left this soil. Courage is fickle, arriving only when needed, and Power remains in stasis until the three pieces align once more or till someone attempts to conquer it.

But the Goddesses have spoken, and she will listen.

She lets her fingers drift towards the golden shimmer over the canyon. Maybe it's her imagination, but the  _Aurora Dinaeus_ glows brighter in response. It feels like magic between her fingers.

"Your Majesty," Melo says, drawing her from her thoughts. "It's time."

She turns to see the sun rise like a great beast prowling behind the mountains. Its dimmer sister is lowering itself beyond Snowpeak without fanfare. In seconds, they will be equidistant.

Zelda breathes short, deep, clearing out the fog that threatens to flood her mind. The bottom of the canyon stirs like ink from a pot. It is the unknown, and there's the slightest bit of fear that fills her at the sight of it.

She's had more than her fair share of fear.

Sparing one last look towards her guard, she lowers her mask to feel the breeze against her smile. Then, she jumps.

* * *

Interdimensional travel, Zelda decides as she's sucked through what feels like numerous air tunnels, is uncomfortable. To say the least. And by uncomfortable, she truly means unbearably horrible.

She shut her eyes as soon as she'd taken the leap, and the feel of Melo's arm slipping through hers was the last  _normal_ sensation she felt. Now, it's all broken light and uncomfortable sensations.

Her body feels not unlike the Chu jelly deserts her maidservants favor. Her eyes are strange and hard like rupees tumbling in her skull. Wind rips past her ears so fast it sounds as though someone stands before her screaming wildly at the top of their lungs.

But it ends as sudden as it began, and with one final  _pull_ that leaves her feeling as if suspended underwater, her body lurches to the ground.

_"_ _Asjkl,"_ Zelda says. Or grunts, but that's a little insulting.

She lays there for a moment, face buried in dry grass till a familiar voice groans beside her.

"Goddesses, I'll never get used to that," Melo gasps. "Hold on, it's best you get accustomed slowly."

She blinks, turns her head.

There's a city and it's  _huge._ Beyond anything she's ever seen or imagined. Buildings scrape the sky in cold grays, some stretching beyond the clouds in spirals while others stick straight up in towers, covered bottom-to-top with glass. The reflecting cityscape winks back on each structure in a dizzy kaleidoscope both terrifying and beautiful.

They sinks into shadows as though they were limbs of a giant, and a thin silver wall encompasses the massive city like a flimsy trinket instead of any amount of defense. It's pathetic looking, really, just like a rain-sodden mutt out in the cold.

Melo struggles to his hands and knees, looking as though he's about to dry heave. The feeling must subside because then he's offering a hand to her and she's up on her feet, head full of cotton and fairies, and-

_Oh._

-runs.

Her movements are clumsy, and she ends up tumbling head-over. A rock digs painfully into her side and she has enough sense to cover her skull before slamming into flat slate.

"Your Highness!" Melo catches up with her with all the grace she lacked, concern on his face.

"I'm alright," she says. Heat lights her face, and Zelda's undeniably grateful for her mask. "That was but a ridiculous,  _severe_ lapse in judgement." She crawls to her feet, wincing at the bruises that are sure to bloom in the morning.

They rest on a cliff side carpeted with wildflowers and rough grass. Pebbles knocked loose by her decent are still rolling. Beside the pit of the city is a forest curtaining the valley, and across that is a tint of blue on the horizon. A lake, possibly an ocean.

Melo's hand wraps around her bicep before she realizes she's moving again.

"Oh," is all she can manage, because  _Oh, oh my, I-_

Zelda releases the breath that was lodged in her throat, then another, until each breath turns into the sort of laughter found in a mad house. The hesitant, slightly-terrified smile on Melo's face makes it all the more priceless.

Her chest aches once the laughter subsides, and she sits back to rest her cheek against her knees, arms folded tightly. Zelda peers down at the great city with narrowed eyes.

"That place is called Smash Central, too," Melo says quietly, nodding to the sprawling civilization. He's still standing, arms folded. If there was a wall nearby she imagines he'd be leaning against it.

_How large is this city, then, compared to the countless others of this realm?_

She doesn't voice the question, instead mulls it over as though it were a mouthful of tea. Swallowing, she stands.

"Fascinating," Zelda says. There's only the faintest taste of magic in the air, nothing of the magnitude that should be vibrating in the atmosphere. "How does it work?"

Melo smiles wryly. "They call it electricity. Magnetics. Aerodynamics. It's entirely man-made, put together by the greatest minds some of the most advanced worlds have to offer."

Zelda purses her lips but doesn't comment. Hyrule is leagues beyond its neighbors in terms of technological advantage- magic's a big chunk of that- and they even have pictographs. But nothing is of the caliber that lies down there. As the queen of said kingdom, it grates a bit on the ego.

"I don't mean to rush you, Your Highness, but it would be best if we started travelling," Melo says. The sky is a sort of tired blue, the kind where gold peeks out from the edge of the horizon. If they want to get anything done for the day, he's right. They need to move.

It takes the better part of an hour to hike down to the edge of the city, and by now the sun almost sits on the forest in the distance. In the dying light, a shadow is cast. The wall is greater than she first thought, sleek in a way that stone shouldn't be.  _Metal._  The curve of its border fades in the far-off, looking more like a straight line than what she knows it to be.

"I don't know much about the history of this place," Melo says, apropos of nothing. "It's always been the tournament for me. But a few years back I went to the museum here- you'd like it, I'm sure- and one thing stuck out to me."

Zelda tilts her head. "And what is that?"

"This city is only ten years old," Melo says. He smiles at her expression. "I know. It doesn't make sense to me. But, maybe it does. With this type of technology, these resources… It sort of seems like anything is possible, huh?"

"How old are you?"

He blinks. "I'll be turning seventeen in three month's time."

There are stars in his eyes.  _So young,_ she thinks, but then again, so is she.

There is no direct path, but the patched grass reveals the faded edges of tile below. Plain, nothing special, except the stones are set to point inwards as though the land were one large target.

"And I don't suppose the entrance is anywhere close?" Zelda asks dryly.

"It's everywhere, actually. You'll see."

Failing to decide whether to snort or scowl, she settles for silence. It's a quiet affair as they draw near the metal wall. For as massive as the city looked far away, comparing it to before would be like comparing the corpse with the man.

_It's so tall._ She can't help but look up.

A slight hum permeates through the air. Atop of the wall rests a pulse in the atmosphere which rises past the eye, weaving in and out of visibility like a mirage. There's a sense of depth to the general area when she briefly taps into Wisdom, but nothing else. How helpful.

_"_ _Good evening sir, ma'am. Please submit your identifications,"_  a detached voice calls from the air.

She takes a step back while Melo takes one forward, submitting a hand palm-up to the gates.

"Hyrulians," he says.

There's a sudden feeling of static that has every hair standing on end, then,  _"Two 'Hyrulians' granted. Welcome to Smash Central, home of the Super Smash Brothers' Tournament."_

The gates withdraw from each other, sliding into the walls without ceremony. Instead of a road, they open to nothing.

Zelda frowns, stepping closer only to find the entrance falls into a cascade of stairs. East to west, the stairs line the wall till disappearing behind the first leg of a building. They descend into blackness.

"What is this?" Zelda asks hesitantly. If they were jumping again, he was going to have to push her off.

"We're in the South end of the city," Melo said. He walks to the first stair step and something thin slithers out of the stairs, locking his feet into place before moving beneath his body and behind his head, stabilizing him. He remains entirely, insanely calm.

_"_ _Welcome to Central Express,"_ a different voice announces from below them. A mirage appears into existence, displaying a set of diagrams and text too small. _"Please remain inside your vehicles for the duration of transport. Repeat the command 'ready' to begin transport."_

Zelda gapes at, well,  _everything._ There are many words her brain is offering up, but the only one that reaches her mouth is, "Snakes?"

Melo's face scrunches in confusion before it lights up in amusement. "Ah, these aren't snakes." He gestures at his general self. "This is to keep us safe, and they're part of the ride. Or descent, I mean." He coughs. "This is where they send down supplies and the main service vehicles, but plenty of people use it, too. It's free. Do you trust me?"

_I'd be a fool not to and follow you despite_. With gritted teeth she steps onto the staircase, grimacing as metal cords wrap around her body and finally biting back a shriek as the contraption propels them into the darkness.

In all wonderment, this should have been the logical conclusion for how this would turn out.

The stairs below begin to glitter with light. Smash Central unfolds before them in a spectacular, frightening disaster of a staircase, bright and loud as the wind trailing past her ears.

"Those voices were automated," Melo shouts above the din. "The first scanned us our DNA to make sure we were who we said we were. You saw that glint above the wall, right? That's the aircraft barrier. It prevents unauthorized aircrafts from passing through city limits."

"What do you mean, aircraft-  _guh!"_ The wires jerk to the left at neck-break speed and she has to choke down her dinner.

Melo graciously ignores the shreds of Zelda's dignity zooming past them. "Flying ships, Your Majesty!"

This statement is overshadowed when the stairs end into darkness, and for a frightening second Zelda thinks they are to be hurdled off another cliff. But their descent slows, and the wet pavement becomes apparent under the soft glow of the city lights above. Once the cords retract into the stairs, Zelda can hardly stand.

_"_ _Thank you for choosing Central Express. Please guide your vehicles to the West Sector 779 for inspection. Direct any comments or questions to-"_

"It's difficult the first time, Your Majesty," Melo relays sagely over the automated message from the stairs. "But with a couple more times you'll get the hang of it."

_I'd rather hang you._ She smooths down the wrinkles of her suit, peering around the alley the stairs drop off to. For such an entrance, the arrival leaves much to desire. Trash litters the gutters in heaps, and the smell of stale water lingers in the air.

Houses, familiar despite their ramshackle state _,_ sit out of place beside the bases of towers. They tilt to the sides as though drunk, filling up the space between the towers easily.

"I assume this isn't it." Zelda keeps her voice low for fear of blowing down the nearest building.

"The South end," Melo replies. They join the shadows. "The poorest end of the city. They say the bones of an ancient civilization lie below the foundation, here."

Some of the trash moves and Zelda belatedly realizes it's a man.

"The poorest, Your Highness," Melo mutters. His face remains forward.

Most of the streets are empty as they travel, but there are the stragglers: skeletal tentacles retracting into a sack on the sidewalk, a bloated onion-like creature with a red stare from a grimy doorway. Creatures that would be considered monsters back home.

The sunlight doesn't reach this far down in the earth. A thick haze of smoke blocks the view of the sky above, creating the illusion that they're closer to the surface than they really are. It's claustrophobic.

Thankfully, the further they go, the better it gets.

"This is where most of the tourists stay," Melo says as a long, metal contraption pulls up to the side of the curb. The roads are wider here, at least twice as large. It's brighter as well, lights flickering all around from the carriages, the buildings, the roads themselves. There's enough light that the edge of a gargantuan dome can be made out in the haze. Zelda has never felt so small.

_So much. It's too much._ Her heart begins to throttle in her chest, and she can almost feel her mind tear.

"It's too much," Zelda announces. Melo grows a funny look on his face. She has enough time to register a spark of orange hurtling towards them before she blacks out.

* * *

"She'll be fine? We only just arrived several hours ago, and it's been a while since I've-"

"Yep."

"I'd appreciate it if you would take this seriously," Melo says, voice lowered.

The other scoffs. "This happens a lot. Plenty of tourists come here expecting their countryside state fair, maybe some pseudo centaur wrestling or water juggling. But instead they get reality, and isn't  _that_  a train wreck? Honestly, guy, for someone with a jumpsuit you're not too fast."

"Excuse me?"

"Ever heard of 'overload'? Maybe 'my god, my head is about to explode'? This is an alien world not meant for people to just  _drop_ into, stretchy-pants. That's why your friend here went head over heels."

Zelda chooses this moment to open her eyes. The room comes slowly into focus, but once it does the blinding white has her mind swimming all over again. She's in an infirmary, given the sharp smell and headache already growing behind her eyes.

"Ah, you're awake." A dwarf of a man waddles his way over to the side of her bed, Melo lurking behind. "Open your eyes wide." She complies, and the man waves a flameless fire in her eyes. After a moment, his mushroom hat bobs assuredly.

"Well, you're good to go. Hypox can cause blindness on the rare account, but it looks like you're lucky."

_"What?"_ Melo blurts.

"It was no problem to begin with. Tell me, do you feel nauseous? About to hyperventilate? Homicidal?"

Zelda shakes her head in the negative, and the man rubs his palms together, smiling gently.

"That's because of the Hypox. It's what we've developed here after too many instances such as yours. Basically, it gets rid of all the side effects of  _extreme_  culture shock- so while you're still in this new environment, still left in the dark, you're able to comprehend more, thus enhancing the learning process." The man shrugs with a smile. "At least, that's what the bottle says. In my words, it chills you out while you work it out."

So that explains it. Zelda has been staring at the post beside her bed for the past minute without questioning why.

"All of this feels normal," she says.

He nods. "That's the point. Oh, by the way- I'm Doctor Humphry, and you're in Section 014 Outreach Medical. You're lucky to have fallen outside the South City metro station, else your friend would've had to carry you down to the neighborhood medical by himself."

Zelda's ears perk. "What?"

"That's right."

A new voice- the one from before- answers. A fox as tall as a man peers down at her through half-lidded eyes, a toothy grin hooked on startling green eyes. What she guesses to be a monocle rests over one eye, though there's some sort of extension running over the corner of his mouth. He has one arm resting on the end of her bed, the other propping his chin up.

He winks. "Our sleeping beauty is at a loss for words? It's nice to see I've still got it." A low growl accentuates the timbre of his voice. "You miss  _one_  press conference and suddenly tails are out of style."

Uncomfortably, all she can think of is how she practically lived inside her Keaton mask as a child. Zelda pushes herself up into a sitting position and offers her hand. "You have my thanks, Mister…?"

"Fox McCloud, Your Highness," he practically purrs, and bows over her stiff fingers while she freezes.

Her heart freezes. "Pardon?"

Fox raises a brow. "Never heard of the story of Sleeping Beauty? Ah, I guess you wouldn't have in your world. She's a princess. And in my eyes, sleeping plus beauty equals royalty."

He smirks, she blinks, and he shrugs. "I suppose it'll be our little joke, then."

She tries to smile. "Well, please. Call me Sheik."

"Sure," he says not at all convincingly.

Melo steps in and offers an apologetic hand. "We're running just a bit late. If we want to get there before dawn, I suggest we head off." She stands, and he shoulders both their packs and bows to the doctor. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Doctor Humphrey raises a brow but doesn't move to stop them.

"Where are you off to?" Fox asks.

He's straightened up, and Zelda runs an eye over his attire. Zoras and Gorons didn't wear human clothing, yet this fox-man is better dressed than most. The quality of the material catches her eye. If she's being honest, that's the part that throws her off. Sturdy metal boots buckle up to his knees, and from there it's a confusing mesh of gadgets and pockets, the only 'normal' article of clothing being a simple red scarf tucked around his collar.

"The Super Smash Bros. Tournament, sir," Melo answers. His lips thin as though something nasty threatens to escape his mouth. Ah, yes. Weren't they arguing earlier? Fox tilts his head appraisingly, and there's an added sparkle to his eye she can't quite catch.

_Goddesses, some things never change._ "I want to join the fight," Zelda interjects before a brawl can break out. 

Fox leans his weight to one side, folding his arms slowly, and she continues. "Melo and I come from a warrior tribe in our realm, where honor and duty are held above the rest. He knew how important it is to me to better myself, and-"

"Alright, alright," Fox waves a hand, "no need to give me your life story. 'Honor and duty', huh? That'll attract a couple of the sword-swingers." He mutters the last part, scratching his chin as he looks her head to toe. "Well, princess, let it be known that I never say no to a lady in need, fur or not. I'll get you in."

"Huh?" Melo voices dumbly, which adequately describes how Zelda feels.

Fox barks a laugh, baring white canines. "Well, not  _in_ -in. I'll get you into the building and speed up the process with a recommendation of my own, but then it's up to you to prove yourself. Got it?"

Zelda nods hurriedly. "Yes, of course! If you would be so kind to give us some privacy," Doctor Humphrey is already out of his chair, "we'll meet you outside."

"Sure." Fox shoots her a thumbs-up and takes his leave.

"What." Melo faces her once he's made sure they are truly alone. "Forgive me _,_ but the integrity of that fox weighs less than a feather."

"All the better to fly with," Zelda replies airily, then sends a quick glance to the curtain. "I've seen him before."

Melo's brows furrow. She elaborates, "In my vision, he was there..." She checks over her pockets and pouches for comforts sake more than anything, then straightens. "I need your mind, Melo."

The expression on his face is priceless. "Shall I call for the doctor?"

"No need for that. Honestly, I should have done this before we left," she mutters. In her hand a faint golden glow pulsates. She smiles softly. "Step forward, please. I will do no harm to you."

Obviously flustered, Melo steps forth and mutters, "I'd never think you would, Your Majesty."

"Good," Zelda says. "Then stop fidgeting, and breathe."

_Planes, cars, trains. Spaceships. Buses, lamp posts, printer ink? Newspapers onto fast news, fast transportation to fast communication. Television-_

The information arrives in fragments of thought, memories swept aside for their mundaneness. Wisdom filters through the facts he believes to be true and she soaks it up as though she'd been learning with him all his life.

The transfer stops, and she takes a moment to breathe. While the information is now a part of her as it is with Melo, the added weight of something new feels slightly off. The unbalance will wear off.

Zelda squints and points to the closest thing she can think of. "'Display' or 'TV', sometimes 'screen?'" The flat expanse of chrome gleams appreciatively.

Melo's eyes widen in surprise. "How did-"

"Do you own a 'phone,' Melo?" she asks in curiosity. And, to a bit of her private amusement, his face turns a peculiar shade of white.

"You…?"

Taking pity on him, she waves her hand in answer. "The Goddesses blessed me with considerable power, Melo. The Dark King isn't the only one with tricks."

He remains silent for a moment, seemingly thinking. Then, "So that's why Impa said you were a star student."

Her brow arches. "I'll have you know I was a dedicated and rather  _studious_ student." She lifts her chin. "Especially concerning practice with the Holy artifact."

By the way his eyes light up, he gets that she's joking. Or, at least somewhat. "Anyways," she turns, "we best not keep Mr. McCloud waiting."

Fox flashes a blinding grin when they enter the lobby of the building. The room is small but well-furnished and points to a perfectly-adequate service, something Zelda won't contest.

"Well, you ready to go?" he asks.

"We are," she answers. "Thank you, Mr. McCloud, for your willingness to help us."

"Fox," he says. "And don't thank me till we get there, princess."

He winks and rests his hand on the door handle, waving her ahead. "C'mon, ladies first."

Zelda frowns, but takes the offer. She regrets it as soon as she steps over the threshold. Waiting for them down the porch steps is a good dozen of reporters all wielding their own cameras and microphones. The door slams shut in her surprise, and by the faint yelp she must've caught Fox in the wedge.

He interjects himself in-between her and the crowd, smiling a good-natured grin. Every question they toss at him he deflects with humor, and before she's had time to gape he's got an arm around her waist while he cuts through the throng with ease, Melo trailing behind.

"Well, that was exciting," he says once they're a decent distance away from the chaos. "Sorry about that, they follow me everywhere. Sometimes, I swear somebody's sticking trackers in the food."

He stops brushing himself off and has the decency to look sheepish. "I should probably explain. The name's Fox McCloud, pilot extraordinaire and All-Star champion."

Apparently the title means something, because all animosity drops from Melo and is replaced with pure ecstasy.

" _What?_ You're- oh my gosh!" He reaches for a handshake and Fox doesn't bat an eyelash. "I've been a fan of the tournament for  _years_."

Fox grins. "Yeah? Well, all the more reason to kick up some dust and get there. You up for the metro, princess?"

She nods and takes his hand, thankful her gloves hide her sweaty palms. From what she gathered from the transaction with Melo, the metro is a metal snake that weaves throughout the city, swallowing people whole to deliver them to their destination. Completely time efficient and all-around terrifying.

They're stopped several times on the way for pictures with fans, but the metro arrives all too soon. Fox steps over the ledge first, and immediately the metro officer's eyes bulge like a fish at the sight of them.

"Mr. McCloud!" he sputters. The rest of the car is packed with curious onlookers, some already holding up their phones.

Fox leans in. "Think we can get a bit of privacy?"

The officer quickly nods and ushers them down the aisle and to an adjoined car. Compared to the previous one, this one is comfortably furnished with plush chairs strapped to the floor, side tables offering reading material and refreshments.

The lone occupant perks at the sight of them. "Why, Fox! Have you made some new friends?"

"Sure, Pea." He chuckles in response, sitting himself across from her and strapping in. He gestures them to sit. "Guys, this is Peach Toadstool, princess of the Mushroom Kingdom."

Peach is rather pretty in a vibrant way, almost the antithesis of Zelda's dark blues and grays. Down to her petal lips and sun-colored hair, she is the epitome of a human flower. The crown atop her head shines polished like a pocket sun.

She's also familiar, which is why Zelda replies earnestly, "Nice to meet you, Your Highness. I'm Sheik, and this is my travelling companion Melo." She bows, and Melo follows.

"Oh, no, no! Call me Peach. I'm only princess when it's formal." Peach smiles dashingly. "So, you must tell me- Where are you all headed?"

"The Dome, actually. Sheik, here, wants to join," Fox answers. Only when Zelda looks out the window does she realize they're moving.

"Oh!" Peach covers her mouth. "How exciting! I do hope you're ready for some competition. People from all over try to get in. You have some recommendations, at least?"

Zelda digs out the letter she wrote by hand only hours before and hands it over. "'Her Majesty the Queen', huh? That's a good start." Peach smiles brightly. "Where're your other ones?"

"Other ones?" Zelda repeats dumbly. Melo looks as though he swallowed his tongue.

Fox raises a brow in turn. "You know how many hopeful brawns come down here with letters from kings and queens? You'll need more than that."

"I don't have anything else to offer," she admits helplessly. If anything, she can always forge some from the Goron chiefs and Impa, but something tells her that won't do any good.

"Well, I'll tell you what. I like you already, so  _I'll_ give you a recommendation." Peach smiles reassuringly. "They'll be hard pressed to refuse me."

Immeasurable gratitude floods Zelda. "I am in your debt."

"Sheesh, no need to sound so serious," Fox says. "Pea's a heavy sponsor for the tournament, so this'll insure you have at least a foot in the door. I'll throw a good word in for you, too."

"Thank you," she replies, a bit surprised.

He smirks. "Now, check that out." He points to the window, and Zelda follows the gesture.

In between the shutter of buildings and billboards stands a tower cast in green light. It thins toward the top like a needle and rises above some of the skyscrapers. She loses sight of it a second later when they pass through a tunnel.

"The Translator," Fox says. "Takes every word from your mouth and puts it in the native tongue of the listener. Keeps communication running smoothly. Without it, business down here would be unimaginable."

Zelda frowns. This makes some sense, actually. She hasn't stopped to think about how odd it was for everyone to be speaking Common Hylian.

"Of course, I have my own pocket version," Fox pats his jacket. "Only covers the individual, but it's gotten me out of tight spaces in the past."

"You said you were a pilot?" she prods.

Fox nods, and Peach takes the opportunity to gasp. "Oh, he's one of the best! He was the head of Star Fox, you know. The only one better at flying is Falco, and I'm sure you'll meet him soon."

A strange feeling passes through her feet, and with a start Zelda realizes it's because they stopped moving. The door slides open, connecting them once again with the larger car that has already emptied.

"We're here," Fox announces. "I don't suppose this is your stop, too?" he asks Peach.

She hums, tapping her chin wonderingly. "Well, I rather was looking forward to a late-night ride through Smash Central. But it's already been several hours,  _and_ I promised I'd be there for the match tomorrow…"

Fox inspects his gloves.

"Oh, I'll head in. Might as well." The princess rises with a dainty chitter, and as though a beacon were lit a dozen little mushroom men rush to her presence.

"Like a queen and her hive," Fox mutters. "No man can separate Peach from her toads."

The toads file out the door first, leading the way down the street to where a hulking mass of a building awaits.

If Zelda thought the Dome was large before, the size of it now is unreal. It has its own gravitational effect on the buildings, the people, the streets; everything in existence seems to have been placed for this one structure. A grand set of stairs leads the way up.

"Home sweet home," Fox says. It sounds like a joke, only he's not smiling. "Well, c'mon, princess. The sooner you meet with admissions, the sooner you can head for bed. You look like you need it."

Miraculously, they blend in with the crowd. Maybe the sight of a Brawler near the tournament has lost its novelty over time, but whatever the case, the people let them pass.

The front of the Dome grows transparent the closer they walk towards it, revealing a grand floor with several booths set up near the entrance. Multiple doors at the front provide several lanes for tickets, though only a fraction of them are being used.

Still, "I'm surprised people are still awake."

"It's the city that never sleeps, princess. There's some who are only awake at night, others who can only go outside at when the sun's down," Fox answers. "Some who choose to only go out in the dark. There's every type of person here and more."

The several levels of the dome become more apparent by the time they make it up the grand steps. There are easily forty floors above the main room, though they're hollowed out through the middle to make room for several displays and banners connected to the first floor.

One screen hangs down on suspension cables, easily the largest of them all. Several faces are pictured above a scrolling text of the day's scores, but what's immediately apparent is the list of fights for the next day.

"I wonder who's on for tomorrow," Melo voices her thoughts, but before she can make her way through one of the doors to decipher it, the toads change their direction to a space left on the far side of the doors.

"Seriously?" Fox groans, brow raised incredulously. Peach just smiles and walks ahead of them. To Zelda and Melo, he says, "You're going to want to breathe slow and stay relaxed. Teleporting is like visiting your own personal hell."

The toads line up along a squared-off portion of the ground and usher them inside. Light flashes briefly, then static laces over her skin and light green walls replaces the cityscape.

Fox makes disgusted sound. "Now I'll pick up every piece of lint in this building. I hate doing that."

"It made the trip shorter, didn't it?" Peach asks.

"I'd rather sign a thousand autographs from grubby Waddle Dees any day."

"They wouldn't want them," Peach replies with a sniff. Fox enacts a mock stab to the chest and the princess brushes him off. "Oh, hush."

Suddenly, the attention focuses back on herself and Melo. Zelda straightens at their looks and tries to look ruffled by the journey, when the truth of the matter is, she's far from it.

Teleportation has been her specialty since the age of nine. The image of the royal guards, red-faced and bewildered at the materialization of their crown princess in the Town fountain comes to mind. But she keeps it locked away. Not everyone took kindly to sorceresses even if they  _were_  blessed by the Goddesses.

"Sorry," Fox says. "I tend to forget I'm the only sane one around. Let's get you settled." He ignores the punch Peach directs to the back of his head and leads them into an elevator.

It's hard not to stare at the buttons on the wall or the way the doors slide easily into place. The ground takes a surprising dip, and she has to grab onto the rails to keep from falling. Melo places a steady hand on her arm.

Fox raises his brows and asks, "You're as fresh as a newborn kit, aren't you?"

Zelda bites back her retort when Peach smacks him with her parasol from thin air.

"Honestly, Fox!" Peach scolds.

"Ow! Violent woman!" He rubs his shoulder. "Nothing against you, princess. I'm just thinking about how that'll look to the decision-makers upstairs. Countryside knowledge and vintage affairs are all fine and dandy until someone files a lawsuit for being maimed by a blender, not to mention the target it paints on your back to the competition."

The elevator doors open, and they pour out into a long hallway that is both bland and uninviting. Across from them are two plaques that read "Admissions" with an arrow pointing left and "Guest Rooms" to the right.

"Ah," Fox stops abruptly. "Are you two…" He trails off and points between them lazily.

Zelda frowns before realizing what he means.  _Oh._

_"No,"_ Melo replies after a moment of horror on his part. "No, no, no." He waves frantically as if nothing worse has ever occurred to him before. From the look he sends her way, he thinks he's doing her a favor.

Fox's whiskers twitch in response to her scowl. He pulls out what can best be described as an expanding tablet and makes a flurry of gestures.

"What is that?" she asks. For all the good Melo's knowledge has done, it doesn't seem to cover anything Fox wears.

He smirks. "This," he waves the device, "is a holographic data-access device, or the 'holotablet' for short. Basically, the smartest communication device in the galaxy."

"Perhaps even a few universes," Peach adds lightly, as though the concept of multiple universes is on the same par as sliced bread. "You space animals are the techier ones here, though Mario might beg to differ."

"And yet you insist on using pen and paper."

"What can I say? I'm an old-fashioned gal." Peach winks, and Zelda can't help but smile in turn.

"And I'm a practical guy." He holds up the holotablet meaningfully. "I just got you guys a pair of guest rooms. They're till the end of the week, and by then you should know whether you made it in or not. Rooms 1127 A and 1128 B, just say your names in the key pad and the door will open.

"In any case," Fox holds up a hand before Zelda can get a word in. "Let me fill you in on how this admissions process is going to go. It's a long one, so listen carefully."

* * *

Really, the only thing long about the process is the paperwork.

Zelda files away the last of the papers into the folder the secretary provided and places it in the inbox. The silver flaps of the lid close with a final glint, and it's right there that Zelda accepts her life will never be the same. Whatever happens, she won't be returning as the same queen who left her kingdom in the dead of night.

She's not quite sure  _who_  she'll be, after all this.

"Well, not too bad, I hope?" Fox questions from his place by wall, and she shakes her head.

"Not in the slightest. You made it sound as if I were about to write a novel."

He snorts. "I wouldn't be surprised if one day we'll all wake up to find our questionnaires published in the tabloids. Are you up for some grub, or should I just lead you to the guest rooms twenty floors up? My treat, either way."

Zelda blinks. Behind him she sees Peach has already disappeared, presumably off to bed like any normal person. Melo waits in her place. The original plan was to apply and then rent a room in a nearby inn, but…

"I wouldn't mind some food," she admits. Sleep is a foreign concept at this point. "Although I have to admit, I'm surprised. You hardly know me."

Fox shrugs. "Call it an investment. You interest me, and I can't say that for many others." Before she can ask for him to elaborate, a light from the band on his wrist blinks. Fox clicks his tongue. "Excuse me."

He turns his back to them and speaks into his wrist, and Zelda directs her attention to Melo. He raises his shoulders upon her attention, but exhaustion wears him like a cloak.

"Go ahead of me and get some rest," she tells him quietly. "You've done enough for today."

"But…" He sends an uncertain look to where Fox quietly holds his own conversation.

"Go," she repeats, softer this time. "You can scope out our rooms to make sure nothing is amiss."

Melo considers her a moment before deflating. A defeated grin lights up his face, but he bows to her and fades around the corner. Zelda bides her time till Fox ends his call. He clears his throat and sends a quick glance around the room. "So, ready for some real gourmet?"

He takes her down a series of halls, and by the time they make it to a pair of silver swing doors, Zelda can't remember what floor they're on, much less the direction to her rooms. The cafeteria is large and stocked with tables, but the only inhabitants look like tournament employees and kitchen staff. They grab an empty table in the corner and she slides in the attached stool, wary of the looks sent their way.

"Don't worry about them," Fox says when he passes her a plate of food. "They're not used to seeing Brawlers down here."

"How come?" she asks, taking a bite of a cross between cake and bread. It's sweet but dry, and the glass of milk Fox hands her is greatly appreciated.

He spears a sausage with his fork and manages to fit the entire thing in his mouth, exposing every tooth and fang in the process.

Sighing dramatically through the mouthful, he says, "Well, for one, it's nice for the workers to get a break from the rest of us. I once saw King Dedede have an employee spoon-feed him because his 'arms were too tired' after a brawl, as if it was anyone's fault but his for choosing a giant hammer as his weapon of choice. Always the ones you'd least expect."

He eyes her glass frozen mid-way to her lips and adds, "You'll see the other drama queens tomorrow at breakfast."

Zelda hums in response, regarding her plate. Breakfast? Maybe she should've picked sleep after all. She downs another gulp and decides to deal with it in the morning.

"So," Fox swallows, "you never told me what it is you do back in your world."

Zelda raises a brow. "I believe I tried."

"That was at least an hour ago."

"Honestly?"

"Well, maybe two," he says, and if he knows that she was asking more out of sarcasm than anything, he hides it well. "So, what is it? You said you're a warrior back in your realm, and by the get-up I assume it's in the stealth business…"

She nurses her glass before answering. "I'm a member of the Sheikah, a tribe in my kingdom whose sole purpose is to protect the royal family. We train for hours day and night. No one knows we exist."

Fox raises his eyebrows. "No one?"

She shrugs, a gesture she indulges in because if she were back home, her advisors would crow about court conduct. "The royal family knows, of course. The rest of the kingdom... We're more of a myth. We were supposed to have been wiped out a hundred years ago or so, but we're obviously not."

"Obviously. So, you're bed time stories?"

"That's an endearing way of putting it." A light smile tugs at her lips. "Our enemies call us demon folk."

The florescent light traces the hairs of his face, washing out the color she knows to be there. On her own hands, the skin looks dirty. A toad approaches them apprehensively, looking back to a table of similarly-dressed employees for support.

Fox smiles brightly. "Can we help you with something?"

"Um," the toad stutters. He presents a gaudy blue phone. The cracked screen and worn-down edges show it's used often. "Can I get a picture?"

"Sure," Fox agrees without hesitation. "Why don't you get in here, Sheik? More the merrier."

She leans in over the toad's other shoulder till her reflection enters the frame. Compared to Fox's orange and the toad's vibrant blue uniform, she looks more like a phantom than anything. Still, he thanks them both and scuttles back to his table, high-fiving a friend upon his return.

"You know, for someone who I found passed out in the streets from culture shock, you're surprisingly unconcerned with our technology. You haven't asked me a single question about the elevators or light switches." Green eyes narrow appraisingly. "I'm impressed, and confused."

"I did a bit of research," she replies. "But we have something like cameras where I come from. To answer your  _implied_ question-"

He grins widely.

"-Melo has travelled here before, and he told me all he knew before we came."  _If only._

He nods thoughtfully, and some tension leaks from Zelda when he breaks his stare. Another sausage is stabbed, brought to his lips.

"I guess reading about it and living it are two different things," he says, and tears into it.

"So, what did you do before coming here?" Zelda asks abruptly, tilting her head. "You're a pilot, or you were, and Peach said you were the head of 'Star Fox.'"

"They were my old team a few year's back. We took down a few gangs and threats back in the day, but we're all retired now. Well, most of us."

Zelda hums, appraising her now-empty glass. "I assume they called you 'the galaxy's hero.'"

"Mercenary, among other names. I take it you don't like heroes?"

"What?" She looks up to find him staring her down once more.

"It's the ears," he taps one. "They pick up the smallest verbal cues your sad human ones don't recognize, and there was some bitterness there."

Hylian ears are actually known to be  _superior_  to that of other humans, but she'll let that one slide. She purses her lips. "I like heroes as much as the next person, if I find them to be a bit prouder than some."

He chuckles. "I take it you know some."

"One," she says, then goes to sip her glass only to remember last second it's empty.

Fox's eyes flicker to her hand. "I think I know why you really came. You're just like the heroes."

"Do tell."

"You want glory. You don't dislike heroes, you dislike the attention they get. In fact, you wish you got the same treatment."

He hits the table top, palms facing down. The sound echoes across the room, and the employees fall silent. "It's not about glory or honor. You want fame and fortune."

The edge of Zelda's mouth quirks. "Is that why you joined?"

He pauses, leans back and studies her. A grin sharp as a knife stretches his face in half, till Fox is half-teeth, half-eyes. "I think I'm going to like you, Sheik."

"I wish I could say the same," she says, but with a smile this time.

"Ouch. I take it back." Fox chuckles and rises from his seat, grabbing both their plates. "C'mon, I'll walk you to your room."

It takes not as long as she thought it would to reach the guest corridor, but it's long enough. Her bedroom door is silver and blank, but at her voice command it soundlessly opens.

"Sleep tight," Fox says with a wink, and Zelda watches him leave before slipping through the doorway. Finally, she allows herself a deep breath.

Her actions next are something she'll remember in the morning through exhaustion-hazed lenses: The room lights up upon her entrance; small, bland in contrast with her rooms back home. She sets her bag on the gray sheets of her mattress. One shoe comes off, then the second.

Sleep finds Zelda before her head hits the pillowcase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a beast to write, but it was so worth it. I'm so excited to bring these characters back into the fray! Lemme know what you think, be it through flaming rage emojis or a passionate mash of keys. My body is ready.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if you guys like long chapters(?) but I wanted to get right into the action. This was probably rough for those of you who don't know The Legend of Zelda, but rest assured that next chapter will introduce some characters you all know (and hopefully love). If you followed this back in the dark ages, you know how horrible I am with updates. UPDATES WILL BE SLOW. But they'll happen. In time.
> 
> Several things-
> 
> If you fell in love with the old version, it's under the title "Genesis:In the Beginning." I'd prefer if you stuck this one out. It's a little different, but it's the same story at heart and I've changed none of the plot. Promise.
> 
> P.S. The nostalgia is real. I wrote the disclaimer and it felt like old times.


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